


It’s Only Natural

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar RPF
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Gay Bar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim lets Matt convince him to go out clubbing, and Tim thinks he knows what his role is supposed to be. He’s not entirely correct.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s Only Natural

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [White Collar RPF Meme](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/570173.html) I’m hosting, for a prompt from [](http://elrhiarhodan.livejournal.com/profile)[**elrhiarhodan**](http://elrhiarhodan.livejournal.com/). Title from The Kinks’ “Come Dancing.” Thank you to [](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://theatregirl7299.livejournal.com/)**theatregirl7299** for egging me on.

“Come dancing with me,” Matt had said, as if it were nothing, as if it were normal for either of them to go clubbing in New York or LA or anywhere else.

“Right,” Tim said, looking back down at the script he was trying to memorize.

“I’m serious.” Matt pulled out the chair across from Tim’s and spun it around to straddle it. “Neither one of us has time to get home, but we need to get out, live a little. It’ll be fun.”

“Aren’t you worried you’ll end up on TMZ accused of running around on Simon?”

Matt shook his head and laughed lightly. “I’m not going to be making out with party boys. Anyway, TMZ can come shoot footage of me smiling and being friendly with them if they want, but they can’t make anything credible about me going out to blow off steam with my friend and castmate, the very straight Tim DeKay.”

Tim snorted. “Right.”

“Well, as far as they know.” Matt grinned. “So you’ll come with me?”

“Yes, Matty. If only to keep you from being mauled.” Tim sighed. “But how am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?”

“You’ll manage,” Matt said lightly. “I’ll meet you at your place at ten.”

~~~

True to his word, Matt buzzed up to Tim’s apartment just a few minutes before ten that evening. Tim felt his mouth go dry when Matt walked in wearing obscenely tight black jeans and a fitted blue polo shirt with the collar popped.

Matt smiled and somehow wedged his hands into his pockets. “You look good.”

Tim shrugged and tried not to feel like a fool. The blue jeans he had on were favorites, snug enough to avoid being sloppy but not uncomfortable, but the shirt was something else. Elisa had bought it for him the last time he was home and then made sure he packed it when he flew back to New York, and when he called to tell her about his plans for the evening she had talked him into wearing it. The basic cut of the shirt was okay--a button-down, fitted but not skin-tight--but it was made from a thin black silk that clung to his arms and chest.

Elisa said that was a good thing, but Tim wasn’t so sure. Then again, the way Matt’s eyes were lingering on him made Tim feel a whole lot better about the whole thing. “So do you,” he said. “You ready to go do this thing?”

Matt bounced on the balls of his feet, drawing Tim’s attention to the soft black leather of his boots. “Let’s go.”

They got a cab easily, and before Tim was ready for it they were being ushered past a line of guys into the club. Tim’s first impression was that it wasn’t as bad as he’d been imagining--not too crowded, not _too_ loud--but he still felt out of his element. Still, he was there to help Matt have fun, and that was a role he didn’t mind playing at all. He faked the confidence he didn’t really feel and nursed his drink as he watched Matt melt into the crowd on the dance floor.

Everybody wanted to be close to Matt, and somehow, without going out of his way to push anybody away, Matt evaded all but the most casual touches. He seemed lost in the music, part of the crowd as it writhed and bounced, but he was dancing alone all the same. Tim was peripherally aware of a certain amount of attention coming his way, glancing touches to the thin silk where it clung to his back and biceps, but he wasn’t interested in any of those boys.

Matt raised his arms as he danced, and the blue polo that brought out his eyes lifted just enough to let Tim see a glimpse of Matt’s flat abs, flashes of pale skin in the blinking lights of the club. Matt moved, shifting his body away from somebody who had gotten too close, and he turned to look straight at Tim. He undulated in place, his body all long, lean grace, and Tim wanted to be the one next to him in the crowd, the one Matt wouldn’t shift away from, the one who could press in closer than the rest of the crowd.

Matt held the eye contact and he nodded slowly, but Tim knew his role for the night and it was look, don’t touch. He was the friend, the chaperone, the bodyguard and the alibi. Not the lover, no matter how much they flirted on camera and off, no matter how much Elisa teased him and told him to have fun if he wanted to. No matter how many hints Matt dropped that he was free to have his own fun. If Matt chose to slip out the back with some guy who didn’t look like a serial killer, Tim wouldn’t be able to do anything about that, even if the thought of it sent a twist of jealousy through his gut.

All those guys on the dance floor thought they could touch Matt, but they couldn’t, not really. They didn’t know Matt, so all they’d be touching was an illusion, a mirage. When Tim reached out, he’d be touching the real Matt, and the realization that he’d switched from thinking _if_ to _when_ only jarred him for as long as it took to breathe in and out and understand that Matt wasn’t just dancing to blow off steam. Matt was dancing for Tim, and maybe Tim had misunderstood his role all along.

Tim left his drink on a table and walked closer to the dance floor, and Matt met him halfway.

“You ready to get out of here?” Tim growled under the beat of the music.

“Any time.” Matt grinned, triumphant, and turned to make his way to the door.

Tim followed, and sure enough they were greeted by a small contingent of paparazzi--not TMZ, just some freelancers--and Tim stepped back into the role he’d expected to play.

“Hey guys!” Matt said, all nice southern boy friendliness. “It’s a nice night to be out here, right?”

“Matt! What are you doing out clubbing? Is your relationship on the rocks?”

“Tim! What is your wife going to think of this? Your wife know you frequent gay clubs?”

“Hey, guys, I’m just out blowing off some steam with a friend.” Matt shrugged, his arms wide and open. “Ask anybody inside, I was just getting my groove on.”

“And I’m just hanging out with my friend. Like my wife told me to.” Tim shook his head, doing his best to keep his face unaffected. “And my carriage is about to turn into a pumpkin, so I’d like to get out of here if you don’t mind.” Tim moved to flag down a cab while keeping an eye on Matt.

“You guys get the shots you need?” Matt asked, ignoring the continued questions. “Yeah? Okay have a great night!”

Tim held open the cab door long enough to let Matt climb in, then he got in beside him and told the driver to head south. Matt laughed. “That was kind of fun, actually.”

“You’re a lunatic.”

“Eh, they have nothing, and they know it. Maybe some of the pictures show up, make some fans happy, who cares? Elisa won’t be upset, will she?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Elisa will save them on her phone. I still say you’re a lunatic.”

“But you like me that way.” There was an edge to Matt’s words, turning the statement into a question.

“I do,” Tim agreed. “We’ll go back to my place. I’m way too boring to be watched.

“More fools they.”

Matt was quiet for the rest of the ride, and Tim followed suit but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Matt. There was a fine layer of sweat on his neck, shining in the streetlights, and his jeans hid nothing, the line of his cock obvious under the tight denim. Tim spread his hands out on his thighs and looked forward, watching the traffic until the cab pulled up in front of his building. They walked inside, casual as any pair of friends, and Tim was ready to cast off that role for a little while.

As soon as they got inside, the door locked behind them, Tim moved to pin Matt against the wall. “You make me crazy,” he said in Matt’s ear, his voice low and rough in his throat.

“Well, that’s only fair.” Matt put his hands on Tim’s biceps, tracing the lines of the muscle with his thumbs and then slipping his hands between them up to slide over the surface of the silk shirt and _Jesus_ , Tim finally understood the point of wearing silk. His skin came to life under Matt’s hands and after standing at the very edge of arousal all night he was suddenly hard, his cock straining against his jeans.

Screw dignity, Tim sucked in his belly and reached inside his pants to adjust himself. Matt looked down and bit his lip, and Tim didn’t want to wait long enough to get back to the bedroom and peel those skin-tight jeans off of Matt’s narrow hips and the unlikely curve of his ass. He tilted his head down for a kiss, and Matt’s lips opened to him; Matt’s tongue slipped against his, tasting like sweet cinnamon. Tim pushed his hips against Matt’s and Matt wrapped his arms around the back of Tim’s neck, lifting himself up an inch or two to make up the height difference. They rubbed against each other, slowly, then rougher, more frantic, building heat from the friction of denim against denim and gasping into each other’s mouths. The slip of silk against cotton between their chests was different, cooler, and yet the tease of it drove Tim closer to the edge.

Matt came first, his hands grasping at Tim’s back and his breath a stuttering sob against Tim’s neck as he shook and came, and feeling that--feeling Matt let go, let down all his walls--pulled away the last scraps of Tim’s control. He rutted his hips against Matt’s, feeling the solidity of bone and muscle under his clothes. He cupped his hands around the firm curve of Matt’s ass, pulled him impossibly closer, and then he was coming, darkness shimmering behind his eyelids as he shot in his pants like a teenager.

Tim put a hand flat on the wall to hold himself up, but Matt’s limp weight pulled him down and all he managed to do was control the fall as they sank to the floor together. Tim closed his eyes and breathed in the clean, musky scent of Matt’s sweat, and when he opened his eyes he realized that he was practically in Matt’s lap. Matt had his head leaned back against the wall, his hair a mess and a sweetly open smile on his face, and Tim shifted around to lean sideways against the wall next to him, almost close enough to kiss again.

“So,” Matt said.

“So,” Tim agreed.

“I think that’s been comin’ for a while, yeah?” The lazy trace of accent in Matt’s voice sent a new swell of fondness through Tim’s chest.

“A few years,” Tim agreed, “give or take.”

“You can be a very stubborn man.”

“But you like me that way,” Tim said, echoing Matt’s words from earlier.

Matt laughed and slid sideways to rest his head on Tim’s shoulder. They would have to move eventually, but for the moment Tim was perfectly happy, damp jeans and all.


End file.
